Memories from a Summer Day
by LydiaofNarnia
Summary: "But how would people remember me, after my death? I suppose that if I want to really determine that, one would have to look at my life. And while it was not a long life at all- in fact, just twenty eight short years- I can honestly and proudly say that, despite any hardships that I may hve had to endure, I led a very good life indeed." The full life of Mrs. Lovegood- sort of OC.
1. Prolouge

The last thing I felt was a burning sensation, all over my body. Every molecule seemed to explode at once, and from the very instant that I saw the blue flame rise up to consume me I knew that I was dead.

I couldn't die, I told myself. I had to live- I had to live for him, because he needed me to keep from going mad. I had to live for her, and I could hear her trying to reach me through the smoke and the rubble and ultimately the fire that covered me, searing and burning my flesh.

But I couldn't live. Darkness was engulfing everything, and I couldn't see anymore. I could no longer feel the pain, and I felt my consciousness fading. The last thing I heard before everything faded away into black nothingness was a terrified, haunted scream.

That scream. I had heard that scream before. I didn't know where, but I know that I had heard it… somewhere, long ago…

**_AN: This is not a chapter- not really. This is the prologue, so a prelude to the actual story. In this story I will attempt to elaborate on the character of Mrs. Lovegood, based on what we know of her from canon. Most of it, I will be making up, so this will basically be an OC. I will be running her (Karrie Lovegood, maiden name Donovan) through various tests to keep her from becoming a Mary Sue, and I will try to give her defined flaws. This is also my first time writing in first person, so it's sort of a grand experiment that could very well fail at any moment._**

**_This does not mean I am abandoning my Les Miserables fanfiction- actually, this fanfiction will be updated a lot less than the Amigas._**

**_Just a fair warning- there will be lots of interaction with Lily Evans and the Marauders. She will actually begin a romantic relationship with one Marauder. If you have a problem with this, then this probably is not the story for you. Also, there will be Peter. Karrie will be a friend of Peter. If you have a problem with this, then too bad, because I will also be elaborating on the character of Peter. There will be no Peter-bashing in this story._**

**_Please no hate, and constructive criticism is very welcome. Thank you! -Lydia_**


	2. Chapter One

When I died, I didn't die any sort of fantastic death.

Well, I suppose one could argue that I did- perhaps being incinerated in a giant blue fireball is rather fantastic, if not an incredibly painful and gruesome way to go. But my death was really nothing special- a quick article in the prophet, four entire issues of the Quibbler- that was all the press that was dedicated to me. In reality, I did not die a hero, in battle against a fearsome dark lord. I did not sacrifice myself for my loved ones. I did not bring any enemies down with me, unless you count my entire lab- fire has that sort of effect on buildings, you see.

But how would people remember me, after my death? I suppose that if I want to really determine that, one would have to look at my life. And while it was not a long life at all- in fact, just twenty eight short years- I can honestly and proudly say that, despite any hardships that I may have had to endure, I led a very good life indeed.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

I was born on a bus.

One kind young man happened to have a camera with him on the bus that day, and so when I was a little girl I remember sitting on my father's lap and pouring through a little photo album- filled with pictures of my sweating, screaming mother in labor while the bus happened to be stuck in a very bad traffic jam, and eventually just giving birth to me on one of the seats with the help of a midwife from somewhere in Northern Ireland and my father himself- a doctor, studied in Paris.

I was christened Karrie Maeve Aednat Donovan. Maeve was my mother's name, my planned middle name, and Aednat was sort of spontaneous- my mother chose it because it means 'firey' and she said that I hurt like hell coming out. I always chose to take that as a compliment.

Memories before Hogwarts were never terribly interesting, and thus I don't believe that I really have much need to go into detail of the first few years of my life. There were, however, a few notable moments. Such as the time when I was four and I met my cousin, Niamh, for the first time. She stole my doll right out of my arms, and I got so angry when she refused to give it back that I outright tackled her and we both went flying down an embankment and into the creek near her house. My uncle Edward had to jump in and rescue us both. The doll drowned.

I remember being only two or three years old and somehow managing to climb up into the sink in the bathroom that was mounted on the wall. Just how I managed this I'll never know, but I did somehow. I remember sitting there for what felt like hours, just staring at my reflection in the mirror. I had always been a very pretty little girl, and perhaps in my youth I was a bit vain about it- actually, come to think of it, I suppose I never quite got over that. But not without reason- as a toddler I had these huge, blue-green eyes and these wonderful golden, springy curls that went down to my shoulders, very much in the style of Shirley Temple. If you pulled on one and let it go, all of my curls would start to bounce, and I remember finding endless delight in this. I would just sit in that sink for hours before my childish giggles attracted one of my parents to the bathroom and they pulled me out. I managed this about five or six times before my parents began closing the bathroom door so I couldn't get in.

I remember going to the library when I was about six, with my father. It was my first time there and I recall that I was wearing this beautiful blue dress with a skirt that puffed out, that I absolutely adored. It's funny, sometimes, the things you remember. Anyway, my father and uncle went to look at the adult books and allowed me to wander off alone in the children's section, but I remember following them… I remember passing through rows and rows of bookcases that towered high above my head, and looking up at all of those big books in awe. I must have gotten lost, after a time, because eventually I was just wandering around. Somehow, on the very top shelf, I caught a glimpse of a book with a picture of a kitten on the cover. As a six year old girl, I was in love with kittens, so I naturally tried to reach it. It was far too high for me, but I _so_ wanted that book… I started to climb the bookshelf, one shelf at a time.

I was about five feet up (but it felt so much higher) when I lost my footing. I didn't mean to, it just… happened. And the next thing I knew I was falling, I was falling and the entire bookshelf was coming down with me and I screamed so loud that I hurt my throat.

It felt like an eternity that I was trapped under that bookcase, heavy planks of wood on top of me, along with so many books (encyclopedias no less, just my luck). I remember so clearly my fear in that moment- I thought, as a little six year old girl, that I was going to die, because everything hurt and I couldn't breathe and I could hear people screaming. And then I felt strong arms wrenching me out of the pile of rubble and I saw my uncle's face as he pulled me out, and as he lifted me into his arms I saw one of my pretty, pretty curls. The curl was drenched in red liquid and even though I didn't really know what it was it only made me cry harder because I was so _scared._

I broke my leg and sustained an awful blow to the head, complete with a gash that required stitches. And do you know where I asked my father to take me as soon as I got out of the hospital?

The library, because I never got to look at that kitten book.

I don't really remember ever really using magic at that age- my mother worried that I was a squib, and my father knew nothing. She would never tell him.

My father died when I was eight, in 1968. It was an automobile accident.

I have very few memories of him- just a tall, wiry man with blue eyes and glasses who would sit me on his lap and read to me, who bought me a book every year for Christmas and for my birthday- for every holiday really, because he always said that one could never have enough books, and I agreed wholeheartedly. He was a good man, and I mourned him then and honor him now, but I honestly cannot say that I am saddened by his death any longer. I respect him and love him still, but I cannot remember him.

Life was fairly good to me in my early years, and I grew up an outgoing, bright - albeit a bit spoiled child who loved reading and loved to swim. I got exceptional grades in school, and I remember aspiring to be a writer, just like my mother, whose words I always thought to have a magical quality. At ten years old I still retained the bright eyes golden hair of my toddlerhood and the vanity to go along with it.

I was growing up like every normal little Irish girl of the time, and I was happy.

However, everything would change the summer I received the letter.

-XXXXXXXXXXX-

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL**_**of**_** WITCHCRAFT **_**and**_** WIZARDRY**_

_**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**_

_**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**_

_**Dear Ms. Donovan,**_

_**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**_

_**Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Minerva McGonagall**_

_**Deputy Headmistress**_

"It's not real, right?" The words came out of my mouth flat, hollow almost.

My cousin and best friend Niamh pulled the paper out of my hands and read it over, blue eyes quickly scanning down the page. "Of course not," she replied firmly, shaking her head. "How could it be?"

"I got it in the post this morning."

"So?" She shrugged. "Perhaps it was someone from school, playing a prank. It can't be real- I mean 'Hogwarts'? What sort of name is that?"

She was obviously trying to make me laugh, but it wasn't working. "It just seems… strange is all," I replied softly, unconsciously fanning myself with the second page of the letter- the list of supplies that I would need.

Niamh was right, of course. It was absurd- completely and utterly mad to even consider. A school for witches and wizards? How could such a thing be? And if anyone on the entire planet was a witch, it certainly wasn't me! Witches were hideous, with long warty noses and rotten teeth and green skin- like in The Wizard of Oz. At that age, I liked to fancy myself _beautiful_. No, I was certainly not a witch.

Witches did not exist. Wands did not exist. The Order of Merlin did not exist. And I _certainly_ was _not_ a witch.

After all, if witches existed then we would have heard about them ages ago. No human being can keep a secret for long- especially not politicians. I remember my father telling me that. He hated politics. Or perhaps he loved politics- I'm not sure. He was never exactly clear on whether he loved or hated politics, and he died when I was eight so I never got around to asking him.

However, my late father's political views were not my main focus at that moment. My main concern was exactly why someone had sent me this strange letter in the mail.

And in the back of my mind, another concern nagged at me, one which I did my best to smother- why exactly did I feel an inexplicable sense of surety in this letter and its contents? Why did I feel as if the letter was real, when it could not possibly be?

"Karrie?" Niamh nudged my shoulder, jolting me out of my reverie. "Are you alright?" She looked so concerned that I immediately felt bad for worrying her.

"Yes," I said, biting my fingernail. "Of course I am."

"You ought to show your mum," Niamh advised seriously. "I don't like this, Karrie. I don't like this one bit."

I shook my head. "Neither do I."

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

I expected my mum to be surprised when I showed her the letters. Why, I even expected her to be disturbed, maybe even wanting to contact the authorities.

Whatever I expected, I did not expect her to exclaim as soon as I showed her the envelope, "oh, you've got your letter!"

"Mum?" I exclaimed, watching as she eagerly tore the envelope- which I had so carefully sealed with tape once more- into several pieces.

"Dear Miss Donovan," she read aloud, grinning like a school girl. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry- oh, Karrie! This is wonderful!"

"Mum?!"

"Why, I attended Hogwarts myself when I was your age," she prattled on, oblivious to how perturbed I was growing. "I was a Ravenclaw. Why, you'll probably be in Ravenclaw yourself- children often are in the same house as their parents."

"Mum," I interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder to silence her. "What on earth are you going on about?"

She blinked at me. "Why, your letter, of course! I am rather surprised that you received it so soon- I mean, you are only ten- oh, I'm sorry dear, ten and a half- but since your birthday is in December I suppose I can understand."

"Hold on- that… thing- that letter- that's real?"

"Of course it's real!" She gazed at me in disbelief. "What else could it be?"

"I- uh…" I stammered. What could I even say? "Uh… not real?"

This was going to be a long night.

-XXXXXXXXXXXX-

It certainly was. Over dinner, I learned a basic life history of my mum that she had conveniently 'forgotten' to inform me of before. Apparently, I was, in fact, a witch. And so was she.

A muggle-born witch, apparently- muggles, she explained, were non-magical beings. She had learned that she was a witch at the age of eleven, and had apparently attended this Hogwarts herself.

"I was sorted into Ravenclaw house," she gushed, gripping my hand so tightly I feared it would just come off altogether. "Oh, Ravenclaw is the house for you, Karrie! 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure'- Rowena Ravenclaw herself said that. Ravenclaw is the house for the smartest people. I'll bet you anything, Karrie," she vowed, smiling at me so proudly that I thought she would cry, "you'll be there. And even if you aren't," she continued brightly, "I'll still be proud of you. I'm just so happy that you're a witch!"

Indeed, for a long while after I was born she had feared that I had no magical powers to speak of- apparently in the Wizarding world they called that a squib, but she feared that it was simply the result of her marrying my father.

My father was a very calm, collected, pragmatic man- which is all well and good, of course. But the one thing that my father was not was a wizard. James Donovan would have laughed in the face of such nonsense- hereby my mother never told him. She never spoke of her powers to him- or anyone else- ever again. And after his death, when he tried to go back to the world of magic, she found that she could barely cast spells anymore. Years of disuse- smothering and rejecting her powers- had all but destroyed a bright young witch's talent.

"But now, Karrie-" she was crying now, and I was terrified. The only time I remembered ever seeing mum cry was when my father died. "Now it's your turn, dear. Now you get to go to Hogwarts, and make me proud."

Wiping tears from her eyes, she stood up suddenly and swept the plates off of the table, briskly gliding over to the sink and placing them under the running faucet. "Now," she said firmly, brushing back her long blonde hair out of her face. "Bedtime for you, miss."

"But mum!" I exclaimed. I couldn't go to bed yet! I had so many questions and I needed to find out everything I could. Bedtime could wait at least an hour

"None of that now, Karrie," she sighed, and although I could not see her face I could tell that she was smiling. "Now, off to bed with you. I'll deal with your response- you will be going, I presume?"

I could have said no. I could have said no and stopped the whole this right there. If I had said no, then I would have gone on to lead a normal muggle life. I would still be alive today- maybe some other people would be too. If I had said no, everything would have been done and I could have dismissed it all as just a very strange dream.

But I didn't, and never in my life- or death- have I ever regretted it.

"Yes," I said firmly, rising from my chair. "Yes, I think I will go." I trusted my mum with anything, and if my mum said it was real, then it must have been, because my mum never lied to me, not once, not even about magic- she never had to, because I never asked. I kissed her on the cheek and skipped over to the staircase that led to the garret which I called my bedroom. "Goodnight mum."

_**AN: The first chapter. Sorry if it's no good. Also, time for reviewer guessing time- what house do you think Karrie will be sorted in to, based on the traits that she's shown in this chapter? I know already, but you guys can guess.**_


End file.
